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inkspillspot · 6 years ago

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Hot and Cold

Sander Sides Fanfiction,

Ships: Princnxiety

Flags/Warnings: Trans stuff, mention of violence, touching, anxiety, possibly triggering thoughts/jokes, minor cussing, slightly sexual jokes, (If there is anything else I should include PLEASE TELL ME)

Human AU, Trans!Virgil

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I should’ve known better than to agree to hang out on a day like this. I looked at the weather and I knew how unbearably hot it was going to be, but of course I said yes. Because when Roman video called me with those pleading puppy dog eyes and the desperate begging for attention, I couldn’t tell him no. Well, I probably could have, but I would have felt bad about it for the rest of my natural life.

Now we sit in uncomfortable closeness in his apartment, from opposite sides of the room. Roman is laying on his back on the tile of the kitchen floor, his limbs thrown out in random directions. I sit on top of the counter with a strong fan blowing directly into my face. It’s perfectly clear to me now, that when my whiny boyfriend was begging me to come over, the statement about his amazing air conditioner was a complete and utter lie.

In fact, the air conditioning unit seemed like it was going to fall apart at any moment.It stopped every few minutes without fail. It made odd sputtering sounds that made me jump no matter how much I was excepted them. It was basically a ticking time bomb, and when it went off we would surely die from the heat. Our funerals could be held on the same day, identical causes of death and all. At least the newspapers would get some pretty good headlines out of my mistake.

Two Florida Men are Killed by Air Conditioner Last Saturday

Pride Dies this Weekend In Orlando, The Cause?: Heat

10,000 Degree Weather Murders Two Orlando Men

God Smites Down Two Orlando Gays by Zapping One Air Conditioner

As I stay perched on the marble and ponder what the journalists might write to announce our comedic deaths, Roman rises from his place starfished out across the tile flooring. A bead of sweat drips from his perfect hairline.

“Love?” I just had the most amazing idea of my short, yet very fulfilling life!” He sounded absolutely exhausted, but still as proud as ever. He always reminds me of a cocky fantasy bard. Charming, proud, attractive, talented, but also horribly over-dramatic and extra. I can feel a thin layer of blush spread over my face at the pet-name’s use and I know the new smile on Roman’s face is a reaction to that.

“Oh damn. Me too. How about we give up on this whole living thing, and just perish.” His prideful expression turns into one of utter confusion. I love how, even after knowing him for such a long time, my cynical comments could confuse his so fucking much. He was never expecting it and his confused expression was adorable. This was pretty much the only time he would let down the cocky bard show. I loved making him confused like he loved to make me blush.

“No Love, no” He’s so fucking cute, if it wasn’t so hot I would get up and kiss him. Once again, I’m disappointed in the weather.

“Aww, is Princy confused?” As I speak I can feel a sly smile creeping over my lips. “Still not used to my humor?” A light blush covers his already rosy cheeks, and maybe, I like that just as much as the confusion.

“I am perfectly fine Virgil.” His reddened complexion doesn’t agree with his words. “Anyway, I have a great plan!’ He takes a few paces toward me and leans up against the counter. He blocks the relief from the fan, which is annoying, but I decide not to mention it.

“What?” The only good thing I can say about the heat is that Roman looks good exhausted and sweaty like this.

“You can’t guess? He seems legitimately disappointed that I can’t just read his mind.

“No, should I know?” My anxiety starts to act up. What could I have possibly forgotten about. It wasn’t his birthday because that was in the fall and it’s summer. Not one of our anniversaries because those are pretty much all in the winter. I’m missing something and I don’t like it.

“Ugh, baby,�� Roman whines a little too loudly considering how close he is. “It was going to be a guessing game and it was going to be fun.” He hops onto the counter beside me, but he struggles to climb the marble. I laugh a bit, mostly because he’s the cutest person I’ve ever met, but also because he’s so cocky, yet he can’t get on a counter without help.

“Well, I’ve already ruined the game so you should just tell me.” I gently poke him in the side, earning a response in the form of rolling eyes.

“Okay, are you ready for the most brilliant idea of the century?” His hands are held out oddly in front of him. He looks like a forth grader really acting out their mediocre black cat costume at class halloween party.

“Yeah,” My answer comes out laced with slight giggling over his hand position.

“Where’s my countdown then?” He’s such a needy boy.

“3…2…1…”

“Swimming!” And I am suddenly bombarded with jazz hands. My heart almost stops, but not because of the sudden movement. “We can go cool off at the waterpark. And than I see you with messy towel dried hair after, which would be the most adorable thing in the known universe.” I know he’s trying to flirt and be cute, but he’s unintentionally made my perishing comment a reality.

I really should have told him sooner, but of course I just had to put it off. I guess I did try to tell him I’m trans once, but then I got nervous and he took that as flustered. He assumed I was trying to say ‘I love you’, which was true, but not exactly the first thing on my mind at the time. Also, that’s kind of a bad way to have your first ‘I love you’ exchange. Now, I’m either going to have to tell him the truth, or craft a convincing excuse.

“It’ll be crowded though…” My deception is apparently a -15 and I rolled a nat one because my tone resembled that of a terrified mouse. Probably because I’m close to crying. Roman, apparently has a zero in perception though because he doesn’t seem to notice the difference in my tone.

“So what? I’ll make sure that no boys hit on my lover, except myself of course.” He comes in for a kiss and when he gets close enough, he takes notice of the tears welling up in my eyes. A completely different look of confusion rises on his pretty face, and I’m not a fan of this one. “What’s wrong Love? We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” His voice is steady as he attempts to calm me.

I feel even worse because of this. He actually thinks I’m crying on his kitchen counter because I don’t feel like going swimming today and I don’t know how to tell him otherwise without ruining everything. How do you go from jokes about perishing and complaining about the heat to coming out? How do you safely turn around a situation that’s surrounded by steep cliffs.

“That’s not- I’m not- That’s not the problem.” My voice is much less stable than intended and the words just don’t want to come out right.

“What’s wrong then?” He wraps an arm around me slowly, making sure that I’m okay with he contact by giving me the obvious chance to move away. I don’t deserve such an amazing man, especially when I’ve been pretty much lying to him for so long.

“I need to tell you something.” I keep my voice down, as if staying quiet will make the whole situation disappear. Unfortunately for me, Roman had always had perfect hearing.

“Alright, what is is darling?” His eyes are intense in a serious and caring way. I can’t help but to think about a different type of intensity in those eyes, an angrier one.

Here’s the thing about Roman. He’s always seemed to support the entirety of the LGBT+ community. He’ll wear all the flags to events, once including a trans flag colored bracelet that I loved. He’ll get into full on yelling matches with any protesters and aggressively praises everyone else. It was brave and amazing, but that doesn’t mean I can be sure he’ll support me. There’s a huge difference between supporting a community and having a partner in that community. I look up at him again and the tears fall freely from my eyes. I don’t think I could ever handle losing him.

“Sorry Roman, I just…” My unstable hands come up to wipe away the tears, Roman quickly takes over the job. I try to concentrate on stopping the sobs, crying isn’t going to help me if he ends up being mad. Pity isn’t something that would ever make him stay.

“It’s perfectly fine, what do you need to tell me?” His voice is calm and patient. This was the other type of situation that would make the bard act fall. He either had to be confused or his comforting therapist mode for me.

“I-I should have told you before he starting dating and now you’re going to hate me forever.” Any tears Roman managed to wipe away are swiftly replaced.

“How could I ever hate my perfect little boy?” He gives me a soft hug and pulls me into his body. This feels much better, but I can’t help to realize that this was a compromising position If he was mad and decided to hurt me because of it. I’ve read the news stories. I know the type of danger I could be putting myself in if I didn’t know Roman like I thought I did.

“I’m not Roman, I’m sorry, but I’m really not. I’m so sorry.” My breathing hitched and I lose the ability to form complete sentences for the time being.

“Oh, of course you still are baby. You could never do anything that would change that.” Another rush of shame courses through me because how could I have lied to such a supportive and loving person? What the fuck is wrong with me?

“I’m trans.” My voice is smaller than my self-confidence and that says a lot. Roman stays entirely silent and I know he heard me because of this. He’s not asking me to speak up, he’s not questioning me at all, and he’s defiantly not trying to comfort me anymore. He also hasn’t pushed me away yet.

The silence of moments like this always kill me. Roman says nothing for nearly two full minuets, but that one-hundred-twenty seconds feels more like years. It feels like the awkward length of time after you make a reference nobody understands. The kind of silence that’s as long as it is shaming. You know that the lack of noise is pure shunning. The stillness hanging in the air stings, as if it was actively giving me social frostbite without the warmth of words.

“Roman…” My former tears are suddenly just gone. Maybe my metaphorical chill froze them. Maybe the literal heat had evaporated them. When he finally speaks, I can’t bear to look at him.

“Which way?” Those were not the first words I was expecting.

“FTM.” The ‘F’ tastes bitter in my mouth, like one-hundred pecan dark chocolate.

“And you honestly though I would hate you because of that?” His voice still shows no sign of anger, actually he sounds hurt. What am I meant to say to that?

“Yeah, I-I guess that was dumb. I just- since you’re gay and I’m not…” I can’t finish the sentence.

“Don’t talk like that Virgil. You’re still my little boy. Nothing changes.” He sounds oddly cold, but not in a mean way. Cold as in like a computer. Like a machine still trying to process foreign information. Still, his words are comforting, and despite the heat starting to bother me again, I snuggle up to him more.

“You aren’t mad that I didn’t tell you sooner?” The fan’s cool breeze hits me as I put myself back into it’s range.

“No, I understand it’s probably a very difficult thing to do. Especially if you were convinced I’d hate you.” His hand rests on my leg, his fingers gently feeling the fabric of my shorts.

“Sorry anyways. I should have made sure that you were okay with this before we got together.” I feel Roman’s head fall sideways, resting on mine.

“I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t safely tell me.” His voice is smooth and at that moment, I remember exactly why I fell in love with him in the first place.

The room is silent once again, but this time it’s peaceful. We sit on his kitchen counter, holding each other and ignoring the heat as best we can. I know Roman will have a million and two questions for me later. I also know he understands that now isn’t the time to ask them. I feel a sense of blissful relief I haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s like I’d been holding my breath this whole relationship and now I’m breathing the fresh, free mountain air. The moment is perfect and warm, and not just because of the weather. I’m finally sure that everything is okay.

“Hey Ro?” My voice comes out in a purr of language.

“Yes handsome?” I can feel another wave of red wash over my features.

“I love you more than I love wolves.” I can practically feel the confusion spreading across his flawless face. Boy, does he have a lot of confusing trans related jokes to catch up on now that I can make them.

“I have absolutely no clue what you are referencing, but I love you as well.” He nuzzles against me, and everything is back to normal.

#sandersides #angst #sanders sides fic #trans!virgil #trans virgil #princnxiety #princnxiety fic

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adampage · 7 years ago

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Blind Date | Shane McMahon

Pairing: Shane McMahon x Reader (in first person)

Word Count: 4,538

Have you had any requests for Shane Mcmahon, if not can I request one where you and shane go on a blind date and it’s lust at first sight. - anon

Warnings: Smut. NSFW. Daddy kink. Spanking. That’s it.

Tagging: @llowkeys / @hardcorewwetrash / @crowleysqueenofhell / @reigns420 / @justrae9903 / @squirrel666 / @welshwitch5 / @eckort / @we-work-hard / @0miss-fandomness0 / @freekmode / @xxmaddhatter39xx / @sjwrites22 / @the-geekgoddes / @xstylesxclashx / @roman-reigns-princess / @unabashedwwesmut / @mewsburger

Author’s Note: I’m taking requests!! My first Shane O Mac fic. Please be gentle?? lol.

I couldn’t believe my ears. “You fucking did what?”

“You heard me. I set you up with someone. And you’re going.”

“Naomi. Naomi, I am not.”

“Bitch, yes you are. Now get ready. I’m tired of seein’ you a mess.”

I let out a long, dramatic sigh. For weeks, I’d been moping around in Naomi and Jimmy’s house. I’d lost my job, my apartment, and my boyfriend all in the same week. No correlation. Naomi had taken me in, ever the sweetheart, but even her kindness and patience had its limits. I didn’t blame her. But this was ridiculous. Still, it was a change of scene. I hadn’t been out and about since my breakup with The Accountant. I refused to call him by his name. He was an asshole, and an asshole didn’t deserve a name. “Fine,” I said, shrugging. “But what do I wear? Where am I meeting him?” “Does it matter? You’re gonna look fabulous all the same.” “Naomi, please. How I dress is the one thing I’m in control of right now.” She gave me the side eye. “You call that tangled ass hair and sweatpants, ‘in control’? I’d hate to see you out of it.” “Naomi!” “All right. Look.” She sat down on my bed, put my hands in hers, squeezing them gently. “I know it’s been rough for you. I’m sorry I’m being so mean. If it helps, you can use anything in my closet or in my jewelry box.” I expressed my thanks for her kindness with the only possessions I had - a smile and an embrace. She patted my hair, and I could hear her sniff. “Um, sweetie…and you might ought to shower beforehand.” “Thanks, Naomi.” “Just tryin’ to help, boo.”

It took me more than an hour to get ready. Naomi said that whoever it was (because the asshole didn’t want to tell me), they were taking me out somewhere super elegant, so dress accordingly. She didn’t give me any more clues, but it was good enough. This was so strange. I’d only ever been on a blind date once before, and it had been an absolute disaster. I was taking classes at the local community college, and a girl who I thought was my friend set me up with some loser ex-boyfriend of hers because she wanted to teach him a lesson. He was rude, and egotistical, and just downright uncivil. When I cornered her about it the next day, all she did was laugh. I spilled my red drink all over her white pants. Because fuck her. Astoundingly, Naomi had quite a selection of pearls. If it was elegant we were doing, it was elegant this man was going to get. No diamonds, nothing too rich or fancy. Just an elegant, long, pastel pink dress cut just right, a string of pearls that accentuated my cleavage, two pearl studs, and the silver ring my mom bought with her first real paycheck on my right hand. Oh, and a jacket. Because depending on how the date went, my cleavage wasn’t making an appearance. “Well, god damn,” Jimmy commented, as I walked into the kitchen. I twirled, grinning. Naomi fought back the urge to punch him, and smiled. “Gorgeous, right? I just know he’ll love her.” “Damn right he will. He’d be stupid not to. Don’t tell the boss man I said that, though.” My eyes zeroed in on Jimmy, hand reaching to cover my mouth. “He’s your boss?” Now Naomi really did punch him. “Jimmy! The fuck? I told you to shut up and not say anything!” As Jimmy protested and nursed his injury, I began to stammer, “N-Naomi, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, it’s your boss. Are you-” “Nuh-uh, sweetie. You’re doing this.” “Maybe I should just-” “Look,” she came over to me, placed her hands on the sides of my face. “He’s going to love you. I know he will.” She dragged me by the arm out of the kitchen, out of earshot of her husband. “I’m closer to our boss than Jimmy is. We talk a lot. Jimmy thinks he’ll like you because the man thinks with his dick. But I know him better than that. He’s not just going to like you for your appearance. He’s going to like you because of who you are.” My creased brow relaxed at the influence of her words, and my mouth curved into a smile. “Aww, Nae.” I embraced her and I didn’t want to let her go. Naturally, of course, the doorbell rang, stirring whatever anxiety I’d had earlier awake from its slumber. “Aight, get off me, the car is here!” Naomi struggled out from under my grasp, made to open the door for me. I grabbed the small, round silver clutch that I borrowed from Naomi’s extensive department store of a closet. “The car?” I inquired, confused. “He’s not…here?” “No, he told me he’d meet you there. I think he had a late meeting at work, but he didn’t want you to wait, so he said he’d bring the car round to pick you up.” “Oh,” I stated, mildly disappointed I wouldn’t be meeting my date as soon as I’d expected. I pulled a strand of hair back behind my ear. “Okay.” Naomi lifted my chin, smiling. “Don’t worry,” she said with a wink, “you’ll get to meet him soon.” As she closed the door behind me, I looked down to my dress, the closed, round heels. I looked up, surprised to find a man in a suit waiting to open the passenger side door. “Miss? Mr. McMahon expresses his deepest apologies, but he will be running late.” I waved the man off gently. “Oh, it’s no problem at all. Thank you for coming to pick me up.” He gave me a curt nod, opening the door for me. As he shut it, I took the brief second while he went around to the driver’s side to exhale a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Mr. McMahon? Like, Vince McMahon? No fucking way. I was going to kill Naomi.

I spent the entire car ride brainstorming excuses, to no avail. How do you basically reject the most powerful (and richest) man in wrestling entertainment? The car stopped so silently I hadn’t even realized we were no longer moving. My head was still spinning with the revelation that I was going on a (no longer blind) date with Vince McMahon. Doubtless, he probably knew who I was, even if Naomi hadn’t said anything. He was rich. He probably sent someone to find out anything about the girl living in his employee’s house. My heart was racing at the thought of this impending disaster. Because it was going to be a disaster, no question. The door opened, and I found myself taking the hand offered to me. I was at the front doors of the nicest hotel in all Orlando. Following my chaperone, I was relieved as I felt the cool, fresh air in the lobby. The mere seconds from Naomi’s front door to the car, and the few steps from the car to the hotel lobby was enough to make me sweat in the sweltering Florida sun. “Good evening, Miss,” came a voice from the check-in desk. “Mr. McMahon is expecting you.” Holy shit, I thought. It’s empty in here. The universe decided differently. The elevators to the left of me dinged open and what looked to be hotel guests walked through the lobby conversing amiably, with no regard for the beautiful woman in front of them. The woman at the reception desk stood and asked me to follow her. Oh boy, I thought. She led me past the front of the hotel, down a well-lit, aesthetically pleasing corridor, with windows peering in to the hotel’s various restaurants and gift shops. She stopped at a restaurant that seemed to be closed. It’s windows were tinted black, but you could still see the faint glow of dim, yellow lights from within. A man dressed as a waiter (giving me the impression that he was, in fact, a waiter) opened the door, and I was stunned to find that a soft, mellow piano was playing in the background. “Mr. McMahon has just arrived,” he declared. “I guess that means you’re both here on time.” I grinned at the casual way he spoke. From the moment I’d walked out of Naomi’s house everything felt so off-putting, in a good way. I was starting to feel very important, but I was glad of the down-to-earth manner in which this man spoke. It helped ease my nerves. “Right this way, ma'am.” There were other people in this restaurant, but not many. It seemed this particular dining experience was meant to feel secluded, remote, private. More intimate. The piano sang in my ears, putting me further and further into a feeling of peace. I couldn’t even begin to understand what was going on right now. I just hoped the rest of this night went as smoothly as it had so far. The waiter turned right and led us through a looming archway, and I was shocked to realize it opened up into a small alcove, fairy lights strung across its low ceiling, a round, dark wood table taking up most of the space in the minute interior. And standing, next to the chair nearest the archway, was a man that was /not/ Vince McMahon. He was younger, though still not as young as me. But that didn’t matter, because one look at him was enough to realize I didn’t mind at all how old he was - he was handsome. Not in that devilish way, but in the way that made you want to sit in his lap as he talked about boring work related things that you’d never understand, and yet the way he spoke of it did nothing less to turn you on. He was the kind of man you wanted by your side at a gala, as other, less interesting men tried to make conversation, and you would take one look at him and squeeze his arm and he’d know within seconds that you were bored, and would want nothing more than to leave this charade and fuck him in the back of his private towne car. I surveyed him up and down, amused to find out that I was dressed a bit more formally than he was. I suppressed a giggle at his clean, white sneakers. “A man forgets to change shoes when a beautiful woman is involved.” It took his voice for me to realize I hadn’t spoken since I walked through the archway. I gazed back at his face, finding myself lost in a sweet smile and serious eyes. Or maybe they were lustful. It was hard to say. Still, it was enough to make my core clench with anticipation. “You’re…not…Vince McMahon.” I mentally smacked myself. Nice choice of words, idiot. His chuckle was light hearted, not offended in the least. “No, I’m not. I’m his son. I hope that doesn’t affect your reason for being here.” He reached a hand out to me, asking for my own. As I extended it, he leaned forward and gave it a light kiss. Fuck me, I thought. His hand was just the right amount of rough and gentle, and his lips on my skin ran a shiver through my spine. “Oh, um.” I suddenly realized I should introduce myself. I hoped he didn’t realize that he had me all kinds of flustered. “I’m [Y/N]. And no, it doesn’t affect me at all. The driver said Mr. McMahon was expecting me. I made the only assumption I could conjure up. I really had no idea who I was having dinner with tonight.” Another mental smack. Fucking babbler. “Well, that’s good. It means if I mess this up, it’s my fault alone.” He motioned for me to sit in the chair he held out for me. Very chivalrous. I thanked him with a nod and a smile, and took off my jacket it to place it on the back of my chair. I tried to see if he was staring, but no dice. Though I did catch him looking towards the archway as he fiddled with his watch, trying to hide the bob of his Adam’s apple as he gulped. The waiter appeared again once Shane sat down opposite me, asking what we’d like to drink. “Sweet tea, please.” If he was planning on doing anything, I wanted to be sober. I’d spent too much time already the past few weeks drinking myself into a coma. Shane raised a brow at my less than dull choice, but didn’t say anything. “I’ll take some ginger ale, thank you.” It seemed he was following my lead on this. The waiter bowed, and took his leave, which left just myself and Shane to carry on the dinner conversation. “So, [Y/N], tell me a little bit about yourself.” His eyes remained set on my own. “Oh, well. I’m not from Florida. I’m originally from Detroit. I used to be an editor at a book publishing company, but I was one of the unfortunate few who was laid off a couple weeks ago. It’s been almost two months since my last relationship, and I’m living in my best friend’s house. I like food, I like to read, and unfortunately, I don’t watch wrestling so I have no idea what else we could possibly talk about. Oh, and this dress isn’t even mine.” Idiot. Fucking. Dumbass. Goddamn. Moron. His face remained emotionless for what felt like an eternity. Then, out of the blue, his face cracked into a smile, and he let out a few short chuckles. I sat there, cheeks burning. I was humiliating myself and I wasn’t even trying to do it on purpose. As I sat there, mentally slapping myself another fourteen times and staring down at my hands in my lap, he spoke. “I’m sorry. I apologize sincerely for laughing. You were just so straightforward with me. I’m not used to it. It caught me off guard.” “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.” “No, no. I asked you to tell me about yourself, and you did just that.” He dipped his head, made sure I was listening. “I appreciate your honesty, and I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.” My breath came out as a shudder. I placed my hand on the table, silently hoping he would reach for it. “Thank you.” His hand covered mine, eyes gazing at me in a way I couldn’t describe, but it was doing things to me that I had never felt. My heart, my stomach, my heat, all in agreement. “Do you want to skip dinner?” High risk maneuvers had nothing on me. I laid my cards out on the table. “Look, I know we just met. But there’s something about you, Shane, that’s driving me crazy. And it helps that we’ve hardly spoken a few words to each other and you’re already one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met.” I took a breath, willing myself to go on. “I guess what I’m trying to say is-” “that we can just skip dinner and start with the sex?” He finished. His mouth was shaped into a highly amused and excruciatingly sexy smirk. I was getting wet at the mere sight of it. “Yes,” I replied, breathless, cheeks once again burning, but this time at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he was having the same thought that I was. “Give me one minute.” He stood up and walked through the archway, leaving me alone for a few moments. I grabbed my phone out of my clutch and shot a text to Naomi. Oh my god, Naomi. He’s so hot and so sweet! It didn’t take long for her reply to get back to me. Yes, boo! I knew y'all would hit it off! Another text, in succession. Are you gonna give it up? I bit my lip, doing my best to hide the smile that was dying to appear. As much as I loved Naomi right now, I didn’t want her to know everything that was happening just yet. A lady never tells. 😏 As I hit send, Shane returned, startling me. I dropped my phone back into my clutch and closed it with a decisive click. It wasn’t long before I heard the buzzing, and silently cursed Naomi for how quickly she texted back. Shane raised a brow, but held his hand out for me to take it. “Where are we going?” I asked as I extended my own hand to take his, slightly curious, slightly aroused, and slightly terrified all at once. His grip on my hand was gentle as we walked out of the restaurant, down the hallway towards the nearest elevator. “Upstairs. I get the run of the penthouse whenever I visit.” “Oh,” I replied. “Did you know I was going to ask to skip dinner?” “I had no idea, but I figured you’d want to stay and talk for a while.” “You have that much confidence in your talking ability?” I huffed, trying my best to keep up with him in my heels. He turned his head, took a good long look at me. His eyes roamed my body, no longer worried about being a gentleman. “Absolutely.” The elevator at the end of the hall opened with a ding; two men stepped out, and we took their place. The moment the doors closed behind us, Shane’s lips crushed against mine, tongue slipping through, grazing my teeth. His body ground into mine, his growing erection bumping into my leg. I moved my leg just so, wrapping it about his body, and his member moved just a few inches to grind perfectly against the heat between my thighs. His mouth parted with mine, began kissing at my jaw, then lower, gently suckling at my neck, causing me to hum in ecstasy. His voice was hoarse as his lips continued to ravage my neck. “Mm, you sound so good beneath me. I can’t wait to see what you’re like undressed.” I squealed as he squeezed my ass through the thin fabric of my dress. “Shouldn’t we wait till we’re in the penthouse? The elevator could stop.” “It’s private. It won’t stop till we make it there.” “Oh, well, all right then…” I said, as I unbuckled his belt and dropped my hand down his pants. “Fuck,” he breathed, body pinning me harshly to the wall of the elevator. Part of me was glad when I heard the ding of the elevator once more, signaling the opening of its doors, but Shane was so entranced in kissing me across the skin above my breasts that I had to lightly pat him against the cheek. “Shane? Let’s go.” He groaned, annoyed, but picked me up and brought us into the penthouse. I figured he’d drop me off on the bed, but was surprised to feel the cold marble of the grandest kitchen island I’d ever seen. “Watch your head,” he said, pushing back a toaster to get it out of my way as his pants pooled at his heels. As he pulled his cock out of his briefs, I reached for the zipper at my back, pulling it down. His hands wrapped around mine, helping me. I let out a moan as he squeezed at my breasts, now fully unclothed. His lips ran a trail down my tummy, teasing me as he reached my thighs, dropping my lace black panties to the floor. One hand dropped to rub at my clit, slowly in circles as his teeth bit at my thighs, making me gasp and grip my legs tighter around his head. “Sweetheart, Daddy can’t see your face if you won’t let me move.” His voice vibrated against my thighs, and I released my grip on him, letting out a breathless laugh. So he was a Daddy type of guy. My breath hitched as he slipped his tongue across my slit, thumb still roughly brushing against my nub. He was an expert at this, taking his time as he lapped up every drop of my need, swiftly eating me out in a way that no man had ever done before, driving me wild as I wriggled underneath him. I ran a hand through his silvery hair, content just to feel it beneath my fingers, feeling my need quickly reaching climax. “Daddy…” I breathed, the word easily slipping off my tongue. He was a daddy, all right. He was taking care of me like no man ever had. “Daddy, I’m gonna…” And his tongue slipped out of me, just like that. “Hey!” I pouted, but I had no time to complain as he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me in the direction of the bedroom, his mouth never once leaving my breasts, biting and licking and sucking. My hand reached for the back of his head, fingers entwining in his hair again, deeply enjoying the feeling of his mouth against my skin. It was obvious he was gonna leave dark marks across my breasts, the way he was devouring me. “No, sweetheart, if you’re going to come, it’s gonna be on daddy’s cock,” he growled. The bedroom consisted of three white walls and one wall entirely made of glass, looking out to the streets of Orlando and beyond. There wasn’t a curtain in sight, and I reveled at the thought of someone in a different nearby hotel, glimpsing us in the middle of our lustful sex. Slowly, I descended onto the bed, deciding that once he lowered himself against me I’d flip him over and show him my own dominating side. “In that case, you don’t mind if I-” I looked at him sexily, biting my lip and flipping us over, “ride you instead, do you, daddy?” His hands ghosted under the skirt of my dress, pulling it over me entirely and hurling it away from the bed. Once that was done with, his hands dropped once again to my ass, and he gave it a very liberal squeeze. “Daddy has a dilemma,” he confessed. I fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt, revealing the silver haired chest underneath. God, what a man. “Daddy wants you to be a good girl but he likes it when you’re bad.” I bit one of my fingers, staring at him intensely, sexily. “That’s okay, I don’t mind being punished.” His eyes darkened at the thought, and he didn’t hesitate to give my ass another squeeze, before he slapped one cheek with his right hand. I yelped at the pain, but all it did was turn me on even more. I rubbed against his cock, begging him to fuck me senseless. As if on cue, he reached behind his head, fumbling for the drawer of the nightstand, bringing out a small square packet. “Hold on for me,” he said roughly, tearing the packet open for the condom inside. I grabbed it, and with one hand around his cock, I slid it on daintily. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he cooed, letting out the loudest groan I’d ever heard from a man’s lips as I slid him straight into my slick. “Oh, God…” I echoed him in response, the fullness of his cock against my walls nearly enough to drive me over the edge, but I gave pause, willing myself to wait for his benefit and my own. Slowly, I moved my hips against his, back and forth, one hand on his silvery chest to keep myself in place. “Oh, sweetheart…” he mumbled lazily, one hand giving the other cheek a slap as the other hand squeezed at my breast, “you look so fucking amazing on top of me…” His words were enough to make me go faster, reveling in his praise. My clit rubbed against base of his shaft, and I let out a moan. It must’ve been enough to drive him crazy as well, because his hands clasped my hips and he was lifting me, egging me on, the push and pull faster and faster, until finally I just couldn’t take it anymore and I was screaming, “Daddy, oh God, oh God, oh God…” It didn’t take long after me for Shane to succumb to his own climax, his hips stuttering beneath me, and I lay my body against him, breasts on his chest, lips whispering dirty thoughts in his ear. “God, you felt so good, daddy, I just wanna keep fucking you all night long, you feel so good inside me…” At last, he mumbled something to me. “What?” I asked, unable to hear him well. “Could you…please…scoot over…sweetheart?” He grunted. I gasped in recognition, sliding off him and planting myself on one elbow next to him. “I’m so sorry!” He took a breath, his face red with exertion, and he looked at me and smiled. “Not your fault, sweetheart. It’s been awhile, and I’m not the man I used to be.” “Really?” I cocked an eyebrow at him, finger trailing his chest absent-mindedly. “Could have fooled me. “That’s nice to hear,” he chuckled. He got off the bed, disposed of the condom, and plopped himself right next to me, one hand on the curve of my waist. “[Y/N]?” he asked gently, eyes waiting to lock onto mine. When I acknowledged him, he continued. “I’m glad we did this.” “Me too,” I nodded, “though I don’t understand why you agreed so easily.” “Well, I could tell you what any other man would say, and that’s that you don’t just turn down a beautiful woman when she asks if you want to have sex.” I laughed. “What else could you tell me?” “I could tell you the truth, which is that while that may have been half of it, the other half is that you were so brutally honest with me earlier that I knew I’d be safe with you.” I eyed him, doubtful. “It’s true!” He defended. “But I really couldn’t say no. Speaking of which, I hope you won’t say no to this.” I waited, anxious to hear what he had to say. “Let me get you a job at WWE.” “What? No, Shane…” I raised my hand, shook my head. “I want to.” He held my hand to his chest. “Please, I know that you’d fit in great.” “I can’t wrestle!” “You don’t have to. There’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes. How’s your imagination? Your writing?” He kissed my hand. “I have a bachelor’s in literature. Does that count for something?” “Perfect. I’ll see if I can’t get you on the creative team.” “Are you serious?” He looked me dead in the eyes. “Absolutely.” “Oh, Shane!” I held my arms out for an embrace. His arms enveloped me, holding me close. I felt a kiss at the top of my head, a hand ruffling my hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said softly, “Daddy’s gonna take care of you now.”

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